


Nightmares

by Glare



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 17:45:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3905221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glare/pseuds/Glare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Vigilante has a nightmare. Lance helps to calm him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> I'm suddenly swamped with stuff to do, but I feel the need to post something so here is this SUPER OLD thing.
> 
> Set between 2.23 and 3.01 when Lance is in the hospital.
> 
> Super old fic is super old.

Detective Lance wanted nothing more than to see the Arrow as a monster. A broken, horrifying thing that crawled from the darkness. Whose face was underneath the hood was the last thing he wanted to know. But as the vigilante sat perched on the edge of his hospital bed, silent sobs racking his chest, head resting carefully on Lance's uninjured left shoulder, he could no longer deny it. The Arrow was human.

The pain had woken him. Whatever the nurses had given him was wearing off. There would be a call button on the bedside table, but when he turns, it is forgotten. Questions spring to his mind when he spots the green-clad figure sleeping in the bedside chair, the foremost being how he'd gotten in a private, guarded room in a secure wing. But that too was forgotten as the Arrow began to twitch in his sleep, a soft whimper escaping the vigilante's lips as the spasms worsened. And then suddenly the Arrow was on his feet, panting and visibly shaking, the chair knocked sideways in his haste to escape its confines.

Laurel had gotten nightmares after they'd buried Sarah's empty coffin. He'd woken in the night to her cries, stumbling into her room in a drunken haze, and pulled her to him until they subsided. Lance supposed it was this distant memory that caused him to reach out, fingers tangling in the vigilante's sleeve, and pull him down on to the edge of the uncomfortable hospital mattress. The Arrow complies, still hazy from the nightmare, and rests his forehead against Lance's shoulder at the detective's careful persistence. Lance runs his hands in soothing circles against the Arrow's back, attempting to calm the soft sobs that racked the usually stoic character.

"I didn't know fearless vigilante's were allowed to have nightmares." He says once the trembling has for the most part subsided.

"You'd be surprised, Detective." The Arrow says, his voice weak and cracked with lingering fear. "Men with lives like mine have plenty to be afraid of."

"Can I ask what it was about?" The Arrow sighs, pulling out of Lance's grip and adjusting his hood. He rights the chair and settles back against the uncomfortable plastic.

"It was... About the past."

"An old case?"

"No. There are plenty of those, but this was about before. About what made me into what I am." The Arrow's voice grows stronger the longer he speaks. It seems whatever fear that remained were slowly dissipating with their conversation, like sharing this small secret with Lance had taken a weight off his shoulders. "You should try to get some sleep, Quentin." The hooded figure murmurs, sounding like he's about to drop off again as well.

Lance leans back in the hospital bed, content in the knowledge that this man, this hero, would be watching over him until the morning came.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
